


With Mournful Tread

by Rocky_T



Series: Shades of Gray [6]
Category: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24125797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: How the conversation between Rios and Seven after Picard’s death should havegone.
Relationships: Cristóbal Rios & Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway & Seven of Nine
Series: Shades of Gray [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651849
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	With Mournful Tread

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Seema for her usual excellent beta.

The sun was setting in a rich palette of red and orange over the western mountains and the air was growing noticeably cooler by the minute. Still, Rios remained on the outcropping of rock where he had been sitting for hours, staring out into the distance, only vaguely aware of his surroundings.

 _Picard was dead._ Try as he might, Rios couldn’t get the images out of his head, of Soji beaming Picard and Agnes to the surface and Picard lying in the dirt, unable to move, scarcely able to speak…In the last few hours, those images had become intertwined with those of another captain raising a phaser to his mouth and pulling the trigger.

“I swore I’d never be in that position again,” Rios said aloud.

He lifted his head sharply at the sound of pebbles skittering down the path. A visibly upset Seven of Nine appeared in his line of vision. The look of raw emotion on her face surprised him. From the little he’d seen of her, Seven had appeared unflappable, coolly capable of dealing with anything that came her way. But now she appeared deeply distressed. He hadn’t thought she’d been particularly close to Picard, for all that he called her by name when she’d first beamed aboard _La Sirena_. 

Without saying a word, she sat down next to him and took a swig from a bottle he hadn’t noticed her carrying. She made a face and then passed it over to him. “It’s what passes for alcohol here, but I don’t recommend it.”

No stranger to rotgut whiskey, Rios raised it to his lips and swallowed. It burned even worse than expected on the way down, causing him to choke. “God damn synths.” He added quickly, “Can’t even get booze right.” He clumsily set the bottle down beside him on the rock where it teetered precariously.

Seven steadied the bottle, then picked it up and took another drink herself. “What did you swear you’d never do again?” she asked curiously.

“You heard that?” Rios shook his head and silently cursed himself for being a fool. “Yeah, I guess you did.” He let out a long sigh. “I swore I’d never let another self-righteous, hard-assed old starship captain into my heart.”

“Picard certainly was that,” Seven said, her lip curling at his description. She gazed out into the valley below. “Why?”

“So I’d never have to stand there and watch him die,” Rios said bluntly.

Seven handed him the bottle once more. “Who was he?” she asked softly. “Your first captain, I mean.”

“Alonzo Vandermeer, of the _USS ibn Majid_ ,” Rios said. He held the bottle but didn’t drink. “It was my first posting, right out of the Academy. I served with him for over four years.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “It was a small ship, with a crew of only 148. I started out as the operations officer, then eventually worked my way up to alternate helmsman and second officer. Vandermeer was a great captain, a good teacher as well as a leader. He was always patient – he specialized in mentoring young officers. We all looked up to him, especially me. I was an only child; my mother was widowed before I was born and,” he hesitated, a bit embarrassed, “I used to pretend Vandermeer was my father.” He laughed sardonically. “Hell, I even called him ‘Pops’ in my head.”

“Go on.”

“Nine years ago, we were patrolling in the Vayt sector. Our first officer was on emergency leave, dealing with a death in her family, so I was acting XO. The _ibn Majid_ picked up a small ship of unknown origin with two passengers, and we alerted Starfleet that we were in a First Contact situation with a new species. We beamed them aboard – there were only two of them, the ambassador who said his name was Beautiful Flower, and his aide, Jana. The captain told me to take them on a tour of the ship before bringing them back to his quarters for a meal. They were pleasant, friendly. In fact, Jana and I hit it off immediately – but that’s not important now. After a couple of hours, we arrived at the captain’s cabin. We shook hands, sat down to eat, and then Vandermeer killed them both.”

Seven’s head jerked up sharply. “*What?*”

“He shot them with a phaser,” Rios said, his voice level, betraying no emotion. “It turned out that Vandermeer had received a 'black flag directive' straight from Starfleet Security. He was ordered to kill them.”

“And so he shot them?” Seven said in disbelief. “Just like that? He didn’t even question those orders?”

“I know this makes him sound like a monster,” Rios said, running his hand over his beard wearily. “But if he’d disobeyed orders, Starfleet would’ve destroyed the _ibn Majid_ with all hands.” He picked up the bottle and drank deeply. “That’s what he told me, after I confronted him.” Rios let the bottle fall with a cry. “I said terrible things to him, told him he wasn’t the man I thought he was, that he wasn’t worthy of my respect, or fit to wear the uniform…he didn’t dispute anything I said. A look of horror passed over his face as if he only then realized just what he’d done…and then he picked up the phaser…” Rios began to sob. “He put the phaser into his mouth and pulled the trigger...”

Seven reached out her hand and Rios blindly took it, holding on for dear life. “What happened next?” Seven asked gently. “What did you do?”

“What did I do?” Rios echoed. “You want to know what I did next? I covered everything up, just like Vandermeer had been ordered to do. I beamed the bodies into space and swore the rest of the crew to silence. I deleted the logs, and made it seem that Vandermeer had inexplicably taken his own life for no discernible reason.” He was silent for a long moment. “And damn, but they believed me.” He dashed his hand over his eyes, angry at himself for his outburst. “Six months later, I was discharged from Starfleet, officially for post-traumatic stress.”

***  
Seven watched as Rios struggled to control his emotions, his raw pain evident. “I’m sorry,” Seven said. Although she didn’t know him well, she suspected Rios was not a man given to freely expressing his emotions, and was likely regretting his earlier burst of candor. _Raffi would have been a much better choice as confidant_ , Seven thought, but the older woman had been busy attempting to comfort a clearly inconsolable Elnor when Seven had sought her out earlier. Seven took a deep breath and tried to think of the right words to say. “You loved him, and lost him, due to events beyond your control.” Overcome with a sudden memory of another captain and another time, Seven drank deeply once again, then put the nearly empty bottle down. “None of it was your fault. In case you haven’t noticed, people aren’t exactly rational when it comes to synths – or other cybernetic beings.”

Rios shifted in his seat. “So, what about you, Seven?”

“What about me?” she said, a bit unsteadily.

He gestured toward her. “All this grief, is it for Picard? Or are you remembering someone else?”

“Picard was a good man,” Seven said immediately. “He shouldn’t have died like that. Even if he _was_ running around like a sanctimonious fool, interfering in things that didn’t concern him, all in the name of saving the universe. Even when rebuffed, he didn’t know when to stop. Just like—” she broke off suddenly.

“Just like whom?” Rios questioned softly.

“Janeway,” Seven said, letting out her pent up breath explosively. “Captain, now Admiral, Kathryn Janeway.”

Rios gave her a hard glance. “Janeway was the captain of _Voyager_ , wasn’t she? The one who separated you from the Borg.”

“And helped me reclaim my humanity,” Seven said. She could tell the sudden bitterness in her voice surprised him. “And look what I’ve done with it.”

“You’re a Ranger,” Rios said. “You bring law and order to a region of space that otherwise wouldn’t have any. You saved my ship, over Vashti. Seems like you’re showing a pretty good side to humanity.”

“There’s a fine line,” Seven said slowly, “between doing good, and justifying your actions by claiming they’re for the greater good.” She looked away, uncomfortable. “Things you never thought you would do again, and yet did it anyway - for you, it was letting yourself feel loyalty and affection for another Starfleet captain. For me, it was killing people who I felt deserved it, just because it felt wrong for them to be alive.”

Haltingly, she told Rios how she’d gone back to Freecloud after leaving _La Sirena_ , how she’d exacted revenge for Icheb’s murder.

“Bjayzl deserved to die,” Rios said. “Cold-blooded bitch would have killed all of us, if things had gone another way. You know that. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“What about Bjayzl’s people?” Seven retorted. “I shot them all, every last one, as if they were complicit in her crimes.”

"They _were_ complicit,” Rios said firmly. “She couldn’t have done any of that without an organization behind her.”

Seven shook her head. “I was wrong. Janeway once told me a story about her earlier Starfleet career, about a time she was part of a force fighting the Cardassians. The details are unimportant, but the point was a simple act of kindness not only saved the life of a Cardassian prisoner, but also--”

“—saved the soul of a Starfleet officer,” Rios finished. “Yeah, I see what you mean. She sounds like quite a captain, your Janeway.”

“She is,” Seven said. “She went above and beyond for all of her crew, endangering herself to ensure the safety of her people. From the first, even when I was still fully Borg, she showed a special interest in me, asking me about my past, and she did her best to try and restore my humanity.” To herself, Seven added, “And this is how I’ve repaid her trust.”

Rios gave no sign that he’d heard her last statement. “She obviously meant a great deal to you.”

“She did – does.”

“What happened?” Rios asked curiously.

“We grew apart,” Seven said, closing her eyes briefly. Such a simple statement, to describe such a complex event. But had it really been so complicated? “Toward the end of our journey, certain things…had come between us, and our return to the Alpha Quadrant only served to hasten matters.” A vision of the aged Admiral Janeway rose to her mind, the one who’d returned from the past for the sake of saving Seven’s life, of sparing them all, but especially Tuvok and Chakotay, the pain of enduring an additional 16 years in the Delta Quadrant. That version of Janeway sacrificed herself to achieve her goal. With such evidence of selfless love and sacrifice, one would think that Seven and Janeway would have become even closer, and yet the opposite had occurred. Truth be told, Seven wasn’t even sure just what had driven her and Janeway apart; she only knew that the distance separating them could not be measured in simple light years.

Perhaps her anguish was evident in her expression; Rios gazed at her with naked sympathy.

With an effort, Seven sought to return the conversation back to the previous subject. “About Picard - you said you swore you would never again stand there watching a captain you loved die,” she reminded him now. “But could you have done anything to prevent his death? Or Vandermeer’s?”

“No,” Rios admitted. “Which only makes it hurt even more.”

“You’re right,” Seven said.

He gave her a sudden sharp look. “But there’s a difference between us, Seven – your captain is still alive. You still have a chance to repair the breach between you.”

Hearing his unspoken words, _if you care enough to make the effort_ , Seven nodded slowly.

In silence, they watched as the sun continued sinking behind the mountains.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is taken from the Walt Whitman poem, "O Captain! My Captain", written after Abraham Lincoln's assassination.
> 
> O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,  
> The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,  
> The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,  
> While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;  
> But O heart! heart! heart!  
> O the bleeding drops of red,  
> Where on the deck my Captain lies,  
> Fallen cold and dead.  
> O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;  
> Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,  
> For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,  
> For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;  
> Here Captain! dear father!  
> This arm beneath your head!  
> It is some dream that on the deck,  
> You’ve fallen cold and dead.  
> My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,  
> My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,  
> The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,  
> From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;  
> Exult O shores, and ring O bells!  
> But I with mournful tread,  
> Walk the deck my Captain lies,  
> Fallen cold and dead.  
> \--Walt Whitman


End file.
